


To Carry On

by 23smiles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Healing, One Shot, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/23smiles/pseuds/23smiles
Summary: One shot. Canon divergent. Hermione and Snape struggle to heal after the war, but end up finding solace in each other.TW: mild PTSD, and revisiting Hermione's torture scene with Bellatrix.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	To Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I've added a bit more of Severus' thoughts in the last couple of scenes. I wanted to make the relationship more equal, because it is. Enjoy! (1/17/21)

Hermione awoke to the birds chirping, and the daily commotion of St. Mungos. However, these sounds were neither charming or calming for someone whose last waking moments had been in a war zone. Hermione was still on high alert. A sudden movement across the room had her reaching for her wand and sitting up sharply, or at least trying to. Her aching body and restricted movement resulted in a violent struggle with the bed sheets. 

“A valiant effort, but I’m afraid you’ve lost.” 

Hermione stilled instantly. It was impossible. She turned towards the voice on the other side of the room, wanting desperately to know the voice and yet afraid of the answer. The first thing she saw were two black pools. She began to blink rapidly, forcing her vision to focus on the person in question. The pools were accompanied by ebony hair, thin lips, and an unmistakeable aquiline nose. Severus Snape held her gaze unflinchingly. 

Hermione was given no time to process her surroundings, let alone her roommate as a horde of nurses descended upon the bed. Numerous wands poked and prodded her, and when one came too close she lashed out like a tightly coiled spring. The last thing she wanted right now was the touch of sterile strangers and empty words of reassurance. 

An obtrusive laugh walked through the door, parting the nurses at her bedside. “Looks like you’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?” The doctor said by way of greeting. “Don’t worry little lady, we’ll have you patched up in no time.” 

He reached down to pat her on the head, but she reached out and twisted his arm instead. The nurses surged forward to release the doctor from her grasp and force a sleeping potion down her throat. Hermione started to panic as the blood rushed to her ears and adrenaline coursed through her veins. But before the the situation could deteriorate any further the sound of breaking glass disrupted the scene. 

The ground was glittering with the remnants of a vase, and day-old flowers were strewn about the room. 

“Oops,” drawled Snape. 

His voice was mocking, but his eyes remained cold as he glared at the staff. Even bedridden, Severus Snape still emanated immense power and his infamous glare held no room for discussion. The staff needing no other warning, hastily filed out of the room. 

“Finally some goddamn peace and quiet,” Snape muttered to himself. He chanced a glance in Hermione’s direction and saw her staring. 

“Humph,” he scowled at her and turned away. 

Hermione only continued to watch him curiously. 

* * *

_Hermione kept running but every turn, every doorway and corridor lead her back to that hell hole. She fought through the fatigue and labored breathing, determined to stay one step ahead of her pursuers, but her efforts were futile. A jinx caught her foot, and she fell to the floor with a defeated thud. Someone with heavy iron toed boots kicked her in the head and proceeded to drag her back into the cursed drawing room. Hermione’s nose smashed into the carpet as she was thrown unceremoniously at the feet of Bellatrix Lestrange._

_Bloodthirsty eyes pinned her in place, making the physical restraints unnecessary. Hermione knew what would happened next, but as if in a predetermined time loop she couldn’t help but struggle and fight back with a defiant glare. However, she knew that if she focused hard enough on her reflection in those ruthless orbs the only thing she’d see would be the terror in her own. The air was thick, stagnant, and everywhere except her lungs, but scream after scream was ripped from her body. The excruciating pain from the wand, from the knife carving a path up her arm, it all blended together._

_Yellowed teeth and rank breath lingered an inch from her face. The shrieking about her filthy blood and her worthlessness resounded in her ears. If she conceded would the pain stop? The thought tore at her heart and added to her guilt, but it was the only coherence she was capable of. Suddenly, her head was wrenched to the side, and she was forced to watch the silver blade etch the word mudblood into her skin over_

_and over_

_and over._

_Tears rolled down her cheeks as she finally fell silent, but only her voice had disappeared for the torture was relentless._

It was well past midnight and Severus was still wide awake. It was certainly annoying, but anything was better than what awaited him in sleep. Everything seemed to haunt him these days, and he would be damned if he was going to relinquish what little control he had left to a potion. 

A whimper across the room interrupted the scowl that had formed on his face. Nightmares were no stranger to him, but her dream seemed to be particularly nasty. The Granger girl had started trembling a while ago and had yet to cease; telltale signs of the Curciatus Curse. He had an inkling of what plagued her if the intermittent arm spasms were anything to go by. Every Death Eater had felt the rage of the Golden Trio’s escape from Malfoy Manor.

He didn’t dare try and wake her, especially after her instinctive reaction earlier— not that he could blame her. Being nice wasn’t his strong suit anyway. He contemplated putting the pillow over his ear and trying to get some sleep, but for some reason that felt wrong too. In the lonely hours before dawn Severus bore witness to her pain, keeping a silent vigil of sorts. It was a selfish move, really, more so than of any help to her; a comfort to himself simply knowing that at least for tonight he wasn’t alone. 

* * *

With a daily routine and an adequate nurse Hermione’s life regained some semblance of normalcy. Her appetite slowly made a reappearance, and when her moods mellowed out they let her receive visitors. For the most part her friends were a welcome distraction from the nurses, the physical therapy, and her own brooding thoughts. In general, she was much quieter than she used to be, and Hermione wondered whether this was her new normal. Even so, her recovery seemed to be progressing smoothly, without any hiccups…until one unexpected visit. 

At the god awful hour of 10 o’ clock in the morning Ronald Weasley bounded up to the bed, quickly followed by Harry and Ginny. He proceeded to stand far too close, practically yelling whatever nonsense he deemed oh so important. Hermione, though jarred by his enthusiasm, put on a smile for her friends and welcomed them graciously.

“Good morning, Ron,” she said gently.

It seemed he didn’t really need her for this particular conversation, so she sat back against the pillows and listened to her friends talk around her. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant. That is until Ron reached out and placed his hand on her arm. Hermione flinched and tried to move away, but her body refused to obey— frozen in place. As Hermione fought desperately inside her head, the conversation carried on, her friends none the wiser.

Severus’ unremarkable morning was rudely interrupted by the entrance of Potter and not one, but two Weasleys. He started out glowering at them sullenly from his corner of the room, but after seeing his strategy was ineffective, he turned his attention to the quiet witch. Weeks of being in Granger’s constant presence had attuned him to her moods. He noted that while a smile graced her face the happiness didn’t quite reach her eyes, and coupled with the tensing of her shoulders he wagered that she had rougher night than usual. Severus continued to watch the trio’s interactions with more alertness, remembering that she tended to become easily agitated with the lack of sleep.

His assessment proved correct when the Weasley boy thoughtlessly laid a hand on her— her wounded arm no less. His keen eyes didn’t miss the way she cringed, nor the way her gaze glossed over, no doubt being thrown mercilessly back into a painful memory. The rise and fall of her chest increased rapidly, and all the while the imbeciles she called friends noticed nothing. Ever since he witnessed her first nightmare he had stayed up many a night through her worst patches, and in doing so he had begun to feel a sort of kinship towards her. And although everyone thought him a heartless bastard, even Hermione Granger— especially Hermione Granger— did not deserve the complete lack of consideration on display. Severus’ face grew darker as he watched the scene unfold.

A dark shadow suddenly loomed over the gathering, and Ron felt a menacing presence behind him. He gulped and turned around, finally releasing Hermione in the process. Even in the brightly lit room of the hospital ward Severus Snape was every bit as intimidating, if not more so. Displeasure rolled off him in waves and sent a chill over the visitors. 

“Get. Out.” His voice was soft and raspy from Nagini’s attack, but that did nothing to diminish its effect. 

The trio did not need to be told twice, and only hastily threw a glance at Hermione before exiting the room. 

“Miss Granger,” he said softly, turning towards the bed. 

Hermione didn’t respond to her name, still breathing heavily. 

“Miss Granger,” he repeated. Now he was really starting to worry. 

“Hermione,” he said louder. 

She gave a start and they made eye contact. 

“Would you like me to call a nurse, Miss Granger?” 

Hermione blinked rapidly as if trying to make sense of his presence by her bedside. Severus simply stood there, waiting patiently as she got her bearings. Finally, she took a deep breath and sagged against the pillows. 

“I’m alright now,” she said quietly. 

Severus nodded and turned to leave. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

All she received was a noncommittal grunt. 

* * *

Hermione’s vision was filled with the dreary ceiling of St. Mungos, sleep evading her. Resigning herself to another long night she glanced at the man across the room. Severus had unexpectedly fallen asleep before her, which left nothing to distract her besides the occasional whisper of the trees outside. 

A low muttering pulled Hermione out of her rumination. She glanced briefly at Snape’s sleeping form as he mumbled again. Without thinking she slipped from her bed and approached him. Upon closer inspection she saw his brow was furrowed, and his whole body was shaking ever so slightly. Suddenly, he let out a cry and his hand shot into the air as if grasping for something just out of reach. Hermione’s heart lurched painfully at the sound, and her hand moved to clutch his tightly. The involuntary action surprised her, but she made no move to let go. 

Hermione didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at their point of contact, but she continued to grip his hand hoping her reassurance would permeate his subconscious. After a while his shaking subsided and the hard lines on his face visibly relaxed. And yet she did not let go.

Hermione knew she was just being selfish at this point. The heat emanating from his hand to hers was soothing, and it had been a long time since she experienced another’s touch. _Just for tonight_ , she told herself. Just for tonight she would indulge in his comforting warmth.

* * *

Severus awoke to the most bizarre sight he’d ever witnessed: Hermione Granger’s head resting on his bed, accompanied by the unfamiliar sensation of fingers intertwined with his own. He could only stare dumbly at her as his sleep addled brain tried to make sense of the situation. 

Fortunately, it was still early and the healer’s wouldn’t be in for another couple of hours, but he was at a loss for what to do. Severus first tried to carefully extract himself from her grasp, but he immediately stilled when the disturbance caused her to shift. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up now. Eventually, he resigned himself to moving as little as possible, and hoping she woke up before anyone saw. 

As he waited his mind wandered to how she came to be at his bedside. He concluded he must have caused quite the racket to have compelled her to approach him. What was even stranger was his own lack of anger at her actions. Severus was an extremely private individual who detested any form of intrusion, delusions of familiarity, and above all pity. But if there was anything he had learned about Hermione Granger it was that even she harbored demons. In fact, now that everyone he was even remotely close to before the war was gone in some form or fashion he supposed she understood him best. And he would even venture to say he understood her too; better than that dolt, Weasley anyway.

The first thing Hermione noticed that morning was the awful crick in her neck. Sitting up to rub out the tension she froze as a much larger hand came up with her own. The previous night’s events came flooding back to her and she swiftly glanced at the man in the bed. Seeing his head on the pillow and a curtain of hair covering his face she relaxed her form. It would have been mortifying if he’d woken up before her.

Hermione gingerly untangled their hands and gently placed his back on the bed, refusing to acknowledge the sense of loss the action brought. She spent the rest of the day not sneaking glances at Severus Snape, and certainly not remembering the feel of his hand. 

* * *

They still didn’t talk much, but Hermione found herself even more drawn to the man. When they were finally allowed short visits to the courtyard she liked to wait until he went too. 

Severus, for his part, certainly took note of her behavior, but he couldn’t fathom why the woman didn’t seem to mind his company— not that he would ever ask. Surprisingly, rather than being exasperated by her mere existence, he seemed to be calmer in her presence. He didn’t bark at the healers as much, and his quality of sleep had improved. Severus even felt relieved to notice that damnable sparkle in her eye was slowly returning. There was only room for one snarky bastard after all. 

Hermione discovered she liked his calm confidence. It helped ground her. When they roamed the halls together she felt safe with him. No one bothered her unnecessarily, and those that did speak to her made sure to watch their tongue. He sensed when she was getting tired (or so she liked to think) and would put an end to the visit. But above all she felt that he understood her. 

He never complained about the silence in the early mornings, or the haunted look in her eyes after a rough night (one that he was sure was frequently on his own), or the waves of guilt that would periodically invade the daily routine. Hermione knew she was lucky to have just been tortured. Others had died. And even though he also suffered from these afflictions, he would never say. She just knew. And whether it was out of pure spite, or the only way he knew how to live, Severus Snape simply carried on with his stoic way of life. And Hermione followed his lead. 

* * *

Her melodious laughter was as abundant as the flow of champagne. The large room held every notable person in Britain, and aside from Harry she was the second most popular person that night. Everyone wanted to speak to Hermione Granger: the magically gifted muggleborn who helped defeat the Dark Lord.

Hermione saw this as her chance to show the world what she was made of; to help re-educate the world on their prejudice against muggleborns. Adrenaline rushed through her veins at every interaction, giving her the boost she needed to carry on. Though her recovery had made leaps and bounds this was still her first public appearance since being released from the hospital, and the first time she was experiencing the spotlight. Many simply wanted to thank her, some that could only stare in reverence, and others still that were intent on chatting her up in the hopes to win her favor. She didn’t know how Harry put up with it all to be frank. 

Lurking on the outskirts of the reception Severus Snape was doing his utmost to remain invisible. He had promised Kingsley Shacklebolt on his appearance tonight and an attempt to be slightly less of a bastard, but no more. He supposed it was the least he could do after receiving an Order of Merlin First Class, not that he cared about such trivial things. His efforts were in vain, however, as people now saw fit to approach him with no sense of foreboding. 

The one person whose company he would not have minded that night was far too busy to notice the likes of him. But it wasn’t like Severus was admitting his keen awareness of her absence since his discharge.

In fact, he was definitely _not_ aware of how his temper had tanked the moment he’d left St. Mungo’s, or the low state of irritation he’d experienced since. Nor had he allowed himself to admit that his nightmares had gotten worse, which he surely _didn’t_ reason was because there was a period where they had gotten better. He didn’t waste his time pondering why he’d thought trying to…socialize…after all this time was a remotely good idea, and it certainly was in _no way_ tied to his sudden inability to be alone for long periods of time. Severus Snape was unequivocally _not_ at his wits end, drowning in the not-loss of feeling useful to another human being, and that being was definitely, most positively _not_ Hermione Granger.

Eventually, he was pulled out of his musings and into a conversation about potions, which was at least an interesting topic if not the people. Perhaps after this he could leave, Severus told himself, but others continued dropped in until a young potions apprentice bounded up with yet another person in tow.

“Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to Hermione Granger.” The lad was beaming as he acquainted her with everyone in the circle. He was clearly pleased to have snagged the attractive war hero. “And you know Snape of course,” he added dismissively.

“Miss Granger,” he inclined his head in greeting. 

“Severus,” she said warmly, smiling up at him. 

She had no right sounding so happy to see him, but he rather liked the way his name rolled off her tongue.

Hermione tried to remain engaged. She had been here far longer than she’d anticipated, and it was all she could do to keep a polite expression on her face. The enthusiasm she once had to show off her prowess had diminished to be replaced with a calmer, battle tested air. Besides, everyone was suddenly falling over themselves to please her; she could claim any position she wanted. 

Without warning the young gentleman who had dragged her over leaned in close, settling his hand on her arm. The words he spoke in her ear were no doubt meant to charm, but they never reached her. Once again, irrational fear wrapped itself around her in a vice-like grip, pulling her under to drown in her own terror. 

Severus’ attention was on the dull man next to him when he sensed a shift in the air— overwhelming distress. And then he felt what could only be Hermione clinging to his sleeve in quiet desperation. He stilled for a moment, unsure of his next course of action, for he was certain she was not even aware of the move. But when he turned and took in the sight of the smug bastard touching her in such a familiar way his stomach churned. 

He ripped his gaze away from their point of contact to meet the eyes seeking him out. Her silent plea for help was all he needed to spur him into action; to hell with what anyone thought. Severus leaned over and firmly removed the man’s offending appendage from her person. 

“If you’ll excuse us, Hermione and I have some business to discuss.” His tone and stare booked no room for objection, and the oblivious bloke could only watch dumbfounded. 

Severus placed on hand protectively on the small of her back and guided them out of the room. His touched helped bring Hermione back to her senses and she held her head high, determined to not make eye contact with anyone. Severus put on his fiercest scowl, daring anyone to approach. No one did. 

Once outside the ministry he let go and turned to face her. They stared at each other for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, Severus held out his hand, palm up in silent question. Her shoulders relaxed as she slipped her hand into his, and stepping into his embrace he apparated them away.

* * *

Their sudden exit made the paper. How could it not? They would always be in the limelight, but they didn’t care. Hermione understood him, and he her. Severus relished his newfound ability to nurture rather than destroy, and Hermione healed her heart by allowing love to stave off the darkness. The papers would surely cook up some salacious rumors, but the only two that mattered knew the unglamorous truth: the loneliness, the pain, the yearning for warmth, and the struggle to heal and carry on. 

* * *

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Review, follow, and favorite as it please you. X


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